Harry Potter and the Guardians Medius
by PoisonPenned
Summary: Harry finds a book that his cousin Dudley doesn't want: The Art of War. Find out what happens when Harry goes to War...forming his own faction and his own path. Harry forms a 3rd side, and uses it to go to war with Both OOP and Voldemort
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not JRK. Not receiving any money for this.

Chapter One: I've got a Candle

Laying upon the small twin bed, in a house in Surrey, in specific, Little Whinging, Surrey, Privet Drive #4. Lay a certain, very special, very unique young man. Green eyes lay closed at the moment as he rested as he could, the lingering shadows clutched below his eyes, he looked older, than perhaps, he had weeks ago. The tension in the house of Privet Drive had done nothing to ease his pain. A tap of the door, and his Aunt's voice, almost timid sounding, that too was a change, sounded at his door. "There's a box of books in Dudley's room, please get it and take it to your room. If you don't want them, toss them in the bin." His Aunt was acting like a sparrow half as nervous, half burnt shy. No longer the strident tones, save when he slacked at his chores. His chore list was smaller, noticed. He'd also noticed the glasses of lemonade left upon the counter. Figuring it for a trick, he didn't drink them at first, until she had stood in the kitchen one late morning and murmured. "They are for you. I didn't poison them." in an almost hurt tone. His eyes opened, the wealth of sorrow lingered in those green depths. The red rimmed eyes, the tear streaks that he cared not, and in the case of most teenage boys, would've been horrified to discover..normally. Normally however, Harry Potter would care. Now he hurt too much to care. It welled up inside of him, trying to get the gumption to do anything, think anything, he was willing to do anything he decided, to stave off, for one heartbeat, the whirlwind of pain that was his own thoughts and memories.

He hoisted himself off the bed, his dull green eyes glanced around the room, he had treasured what small sleep he could gain, around all the screaming and yelling that had went on through the night. It was unusual too, for his Aunt and Vernon rarely quarreled. He shook the thought away from his head, and moved towards the door, he opened it, glancing up at his Aunt. A puzzled sort of frown touched his lips as he glanced at her. Too much makeup covered her face, but he nodded to her anyways. Her voice lowered to a hesitant whisper. "Get to Dudley's Room and hurry back to yours, he's in a foul mood today, stay out of his way, he'll hurt you.." he was almost certain she'd been about to add something. Something hung on her lips, lips with just a shade too much color to them, although they looked bloodless behind them. It did nothing to get rid of the horse-faced look to her, although he figured, as best he could, that maybe, his Aunt couldn't help how she looked. He let a breath out, no release from his memories, and nodded to her.

Instead he hurried to do his Aunt's bidding. Stepping carefully down the hallway, listening to the morning shower of his erstwhile Uncle. A cautious glance at the bathroom door signified that his Uncle was still in his shower, and he rapped gently, ever so gently on the door. Dudley opened it a creek first, glancing out, and Harry felt the sense of tension raise. The door opened after Dudley saw it was him, and a hand flew out, and dragged him into the room with something that almost held an air of desperation. Dudley had been oddly quiet on the way home. Oddly not around his father either, and the Harry Hunting, usually early began, hadn't. He closed his eyes, waiting for the first punch to land, but it never did. Instead, silence. An odd shuffling sound. He opened one eye, a peak, to see the bleached white look on his cousin's face, the rigid pain in what must have been soft blue eyes. His cousin looked...for the first time that Harry had ever seen it. He looked Sorry.

"What do you want?" The words almost hollowed. Harry stared, he'd noticed, of course he'd noticed, the change is his cousin, he was..well ...one would almost say baggy fat now, with an undertone of muscle, as if he really had worked out. But the tension was all in his cousin's face, his form, his face a pasty white, his lips bloodless and tense, with what Harry could call Fear. Fear and Sorry and as he shook his head, trying to even up what he had known and what he had thought he knew. Fear and Sorrow and Harry thought...Understanding. It made it tense, like a knife could cut through the room like butter. Dudley shifted, his mouth opened, and he licked his lips, like he was trying to say anything. A sniffle slid out from the bigger boy.

"Aunt Petunia said to get a Box of Books." he could have been mean and add an insult to it, but with Vernon in a mood, he didn't dare. He was angry, he told himself. But he wasn't, he just felt empty. Empty inside. Anger, even, would feel better than this awful emptiness. Dudley nodded his head, he motioned towards the bookcase, but didn't move. He looked shocked, and sad, and...Harry wasn't about to stand there and think about what Dudley looked like. Dudley, it looked like...he might ..you know...Cry...

Brow furrowed, Harry hurried to the box. Glancing inside, he paused, then looked at Dudley's shelves. As if dragging the words out of his lips, trying to distract his cousin. "You better get back to your room." he licked his lips nervously, the words choked out. "You don't want to anger him." there was something there. Something that made his spine tingle with fear. There was fear, fear of Vernon, of the situation that lay in Dudley's eyes. Fear and Sorrow and a Sick Understanding.

"Dudley I..." Harry started..and Dudley shook his head.

"Get please...if he catches you in here..it'll be both of us." the words whispered, bloodless from dry lips.

Harry nodded his head, hoisted the box of books up, and made his way out of the room rapidly, confused. Everything was turned around, and he made his room in a hurry as he heard his Uncle's shower stop. Next would be breakfast, and then he'd leave for work. The warning had done something, it had instilled fear into Uncle Vernon, and he left him alone now. No longer would his form bear the brunt of his Uncle's fists or belt. As long as he didn't push his Uncle too far.

Sitting the box down on the floor as he heard the bathroom door open, he froze, stilled, then the thump thump of steps down the stairwell. Minutes passed as he dug inside the box, curious to see what was being tossed out if he didn't want it. Apathetically, he shuffled through the works of Shakespeare, a book of quotes, a diet of the day planner, and various Muggle Superhero comics, Anne of Green Gables, which made Harry gawk a bit, and tuck it to the side just out of curiosity. A book about Unicorns, which made Harry blink. If his Uncle had saw that..well that was no doubt why the box had been foisted off on Harry.

In the bottom of the Box, Harry found a ratty old book, he started to toss it in the bin pile, when he saw in small gold letters, the title of the book. Opening it with curious fingers, his hand traced over a name. Charles Evans. It was not often that he'd gotten to see that name. His breath caught, and he tugged the book to his chest. His mother's father. It carefully went into the keep pile, as he heard the door open downstairs, and then carefully put the bin books back in, and moved the box downstairs towards said Bin, after that he ate the small bowl of Cheerios that his Aunt put out, along with the toast, and juice, which had him stare at her for a moment, but she was busy, making a tray for Dudley which made Harry sigh a bit, and roll his eyes to himself as his Aunt scurried up the stairwell. Harry moved back towards his room, intent on reading the book that his Grandfather had once owned...The Art of War by Sun Tzu.

Hot anger flashed through him for only a second, before numbness crept behind it, and he choked, scrubbing at his eyes. Pain wallowed out from the fresh wound, Grandfather..grandfather sounded an awful lot like Godfather...And for a moment, he heard the sharp bark of a laugh, the curl in the bottom of Sirius's hair, the warm arms around him, and then he was choking, sniveling as he clutched the book to his chest as the hot tears rolled down his cheeks once more. Another person, that Harry Potter was not allowed to know, that he was not able to Love.  
To care for...To have be there for him.

It was pain and it was fresh, and it blew over him, he dug in the ratty old dresser, pulling out a clean but worn sock, that he had to use as a hanky, as he had none, and blew his nose. Sniffling, he checked the book over, his hands caressing it like it was old, very worn friend. The other car started, and he glanced down to see Petunia and Dudley pulling out. His eyes fell to the book once more, and he opened it, and started to read...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: I've got a Spoon

_ The art of war is of vital importance to the state. It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. The art of war, then , is governed by five constant factors, to be taken into account in one's deliberations, when seeking to determine the conditions obtaining the field. _

_They are. 1. The Moral Law, 2. Heaven, 3. Earth, 4. The Commander, 5. Method and Discipline. _

_Moral Law causes people to be in complete accord with their ruler, so that they will follow him regardless of their lives, undismayed by any danger. _

_Heaven signifies night and day, cold and heat, time and seasons. _

_Earth comprises distances, great and small, danger and security, open ground and narrow passages, the chances of life and death_

_The Commander stands for the virtues of wisdom, sincerely, benevolence, courage and strictness. _

_Method and Discipline are to be understood the marshaling of an army in it's proper subdivisions, the graduations of rank among officers, the maintenance of roads by which supplies and news reach the army. _

~ The Art of War, by Sun Tzu

He continued reading, staring at the pages as he let the thoughts drift through his head. He skimmed a bit, and paused, staring at something. His mind shrunk from the idea, and then he stared, eyes watering.

A single quote rose from the depths, to stare at him in the face.

"_All Warfare is based on Deception." _

Biting his bottom lip, he stared at the part of the page that said Commander. He had been the Commander in the Department of Mysteries, and according to what this said, he did not follow what was needed. No wonder they had gotten hurt.

He expelled a breath, staring at the page. Strictness. Wisdom, Sincerity, Benevolence, Courage. He looked at his trunk as the words percolated in his brain, and then once there, started digging out books, and then the other books, and then again, more books.

He would become what he was born to be. What his Grandfather had read upon, once upon a time, there was something about the book that resonated through him. He knew, as deep as his own soul, that it was correct. He organized his books according to subject, then staring at them, then glanced towards a pile of parchment, quickly he started to write the topics that he was missing. Soon enough, a pile of over 40 topics stared at him, and he swallowed, but nodded his head. He penned the letter to Diagon Alley quickly. Before he could change his mind, adding the imprint of his key, as he had been shown by Neville, on how to order things for the purchase.

Then he turned to the pile, and with a trepidious hand, reached for the first book. A whisper escaping him.

"Wisdom..Knowledge."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: I live in a hallway with no doors, and no rooms

Disclaimer: Not mine book, just my fan fiction idea.

Knowledge at first, had to get past what had been ripped open inside his chest. He had laid and read, getting so far as to get to page 97. When a quote wrung so hard inside of him that he lay panting in it. He choked, congealed, burned, writhed with it. It was a truth. A truth so vital and so important that everything else around it vanished, leaving him raw, and trembling before it.

"_He who wishes to fight must first count the cost._" Which was a quote in the book from Ts`ao Kung which. It was something that they did not teach you in school, it was something that they would not. It did not encourage. It was pain, and raw, and hurt so deep that he choked again. Dragging his pillow up as he stared at the book with blurring eyes, tears dropping down into his glasses.

He had burned, ached to fight. Wanted it so bad that he could taste it. But nobody had ever spoken of the cost of fighting. The cost of winning or losing. He choked again, the cost, his family, his life, his friends, hurt, and pain and misery. He rubbed at his face, one hand shaking.

"Everyone forgets." the words spat out of his lips. "They celebrate Halloween each year at Hogwarts. I'm famous, but they don't think of why I'm famous. They don't think of the other families, like Neville, who where Destroyed. They don't THINK." he expelled a breath. "I won't forget. I won't forget the cost." He sniffled again, another tear rolled, and he grabbed one of the notebooks, notebooks that he'd got at the thrift store with a bit of coin he'd traded Hermione for.

There he started a list. A list born out of war.

Counting the Cost

Lily Ann Potter nee Evans -Mother of Harry James Potter

James William Potter – Mother of Harry James Potter

Charles James Potter -Grandfather of Harry James Potter

Abigail Leanne Potter-Grandmother of Harry James Potter

Sirius Orion Black -Godfather of Harry James Potter

Tom Riddle Sr. -Father to Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr.

Thomas Riddle -Grandfather to Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr

Mary Riddle -Grandmother to Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr

Morfin Gaunt -Grandfather to Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr

Frank Bryce -Caretaker of the Riddle House

Myrtle Anderson -Moaning Myrtle, Tom's first Victim.

Fabian Prewett – Brother to Molly Wealsey Nee Prewett

Gideon Prewett-Brother to Molly Wealsey Nee Prewett

Edgar Bones – Husband to Amelia Bones

Arealla Bones- Mother to Amelia Bones

Timothy Bones- Father to Amelia Bones

Dorcas Meadows – Ministry for Magic

Caradoc Dearborn -Order of the Phoenix Member (MIA)

Benjy Fenwick – Order of the Phoenix Member

Marlene McKinnon -Order of the Phoenix Member

Wesley McKinnon -Father of OOP Member

Averice McKinnon Nee Prewett -Mother of OOP Member

Dane Thomas -Father of Dean Thomas

Alice Longbottom Nee Bones – Mother of Neville Longbottom (Living)

Frank Longbottom -Father of Neville Longbottom (Living)

12 Unknown Muggles (Victims of Peter Pettigrew)

One Queen's Guard

One Guitarist

One Police Officer

He stared at the page after he started it, it was so big. There was so much he didn't know. His eyes closed for a moment, his fingers traced over it. So much lost. So much he didn't know. So much he needed to know, where to start. "I have counted the cost. I will not forgot."

He tilts his head back. Coming to terms with the pain inside, to the loss of so many, not just Sirius, but his mother, whom he had never allowed himself to grieve or miss, or his father, or those who had died trying to stop a monster.

Neville, who had to live with his grandmother, who's parents weren't there. Molly-mum, who had no brothers. Dean, who had father. Pain halved, was pain shared. He split it apart, the burden, at least in his mind, halved. He was not the only one who had lost someone. He wasn't alone. He flipped through the book starting to write dates, relationships, info about those who had died, searching for more info as he started to write dates. His roommate Dean, his father had died on Christmas. He rubbed a hand across his face.

He drew in a breath, nodded his head, his face screwing up, determination filling it. Wiping the tears out of his eyes.

A low sound strained in his ears, and he stood up, moving towards the door, ear pressed against it, Dudley's TV was in on his room. He'd better turn it off or he'd be blamed for watching it. He moved down the hallway, into Dudley's room, his face glanced towards it, waiting a moment to see what it was, a railway station, and a horse. Suddenly the sad strands of music seemed to impale the room. Dragging the breath from him.

As the sounds strained through the room, a fresh wash of tears. The beautiful sound whirling around him. Calling to him in a way that made him stand stock still in front of the TV. Sound the Bugle ...a glance at the TV, showed it was by Bryan Adams.

It described everything that pounded it's way through his veins. It screamed it's way through his body, so fitting, so right. He stared at it, tears scalding down his tired cheeks. He was in a room with no windows, no doors, no where to go. He was so afraid he was going to stumble, fall. Lay down inside, not go on, not go anywhere, not be able to do it.

Then he heard something, something that brought his head up, it was words, words to a song, but he allowed himself to listen, and he could imagine it. Head tilted back, tears tracking down his face. He allowed himself to feel, opening the lockbox around his heart, he allowed himself to remember, pealed it off, almost violently. There in Dudley Dursley's room. He could almost hear Sirius's voice, the barking laugh, telling him that he knew who he was. If he lost himself, Sirius would NEVER forgive him.

He remembered then, remembered the look on Sirius's face when he wrapped his arms around him. He had been loved.

He exhaled, drew another lungful, exhaled again, tried to catch his breath.

The words where whispered, but it was what needed to be said.

"I am Harry James Potter, Son of James Charles Potter, Son of Lily Anne Evans Nee Potter, Grandson of Charles Potter, Grandson of Abigail Potter Nee Longbottom, Godson of Sirius Orion Black. They could not stand aside, and while I was not asked to make a choice, I make it now, freely. I will not stand aside, I will not look the other way, And I will count the cost, and I will not forget. I swear it, On my Heart, on my Magic, on my Soul."

He turned, as the last strains of the music faded behind him. The words "Your a soldier now.." straining behind him...He turned towards the kitchen, intent on taking care of his body's needs, and then returning to the search for knowledge. "If it's a War they Want..." the words low, an oath.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Not her, not making money. Don't sue.

Chapter Four: Under a windowsill, they where all found

"_Sun Tzu said: In the practical art of war, the best thing of all is to take the enemy's country whole and intact; to shatter and destroy it is not so good. So, too, it is better to recapture an army entire than to destroy it, to capture a regiment, a detachment or a company entire than to destroy them"_

He heard the tap of the owls at his window, looking up from his Transfiguration book, a letter, and ten owls, obviously under and obscuring charm, laid outside of his window.

Mr. Potter

We hope this finds you in good health, We have looked for the books that you required, and have found all but a few. Looking at the list, We think we know what your doing, and I'm going to send a few that We think might assist you.

The Shopkeepers of Diagon Alley

He got up, starting to accept the books from the owls, stacking them on the floor around his notes, and work. Parchment, pencils, more books, it seemed endless. They had grouped up, discussing the sudden influx of Hedwig, and had grouped together, getting him books. He held the paper with a trembling hand. They knew, they understood, and they where supporting him. He swallowed hard, and started dividing up what was there.

His hand bumped into one of the books, and he stared down at it. "The Arte of Occlumency.." he exhaled a breath. Then nodded with determination, and flipped the book open.

"The Arte of Occlumency is hard to learn, it is not simple...to learn how to block your thoughts, you must put all your Will behind it, Will, as always, matters more than Magic. First one must empty the mind of all emotions, let yourself float in nothing, breath in, breath out, mediation is key for this level. Clearing your mind is the first path of Occlumency. Then upon that a landscape will form. He blinked. An O formed in his mind, he could do that...he started reading again, the book was interesting, dragging his mind down, until he was meditating. He found his mind scape, a barren, burnt place. He looked down, even while imagining it in his minds eye, and continued. Make it somewhere safe, the book said. He made it the safest place he could imagine, A clear night's sky, grass crawled across the ground of his mind scape as his mind moved on with decorating it to his comfort. Clouds drifted by and he expelled a breath, calm. "Congratulations, you have cleared your mind.." and then it started describing defenses, and how to keep someone out of your mind. You built walls around your mind, and when someone tried to get in..."

Hours later, he folded the book closed, a peaceful smile on his face. He started with organization, he started to the library within his mind, the books hanging upon the giant tree like the one he had hid from Dudley and Ripper in. He opened a blank book, touched his fingers to his head, and a memory formed on the page. He started around the outside of the giant tree, the memories that did not matter the most went on the outside of the giant tree, which he placed in a forest of such places. In a forest of forests, in a wide bright sky.

Erecting his defenses took time, and he felt a little better when he came out of it, he had found a vine, from under the root of the tree, pitch black, he had sealed it in thick stone walls, knowing almost instinctively that this was his link with Voldemort.

He continued for a while, then took a break to get food from the kitchen, moving about the house like a ghost, then back to his room to work.

His mind was pondering, as he moved, what the practical way to take Voldemort's people would be. Then a naughty, mischievous smile, one that people might see more often than not, on James Potter's face...

He hurried to his room, and started to write, then another letter was started. Then he continued, scribbling away. "They want to push. I will push back. They want to act like this, they will find out what I am like when they push me into a corner..I will not forget and I will not forgive.." the words soft.

He offered the two letters to Hedwig, who sighed at him, and nibbled on his fingers. "I'm sorry Hedg, I've nothing else for you after that, if you want to take your time getting home..it has to be done. For Sirius, for Mum, for all of them..."

A small grin played across his face, one of the first. "Besides Hedg, this is going to stir up a hornet's nest. Your going to LOVE it."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not her, not making money. Don't sue.

Chapter Five: A touch of concrete within the doorway

It was Saturday, the long awaited day, and he worked on his Potions essay with sturdy industry, the faster done, the better begun. The tension in the house remained. Vernon and Petunia continued to fight. It made sleeping difficult, but then, sleeping was always difficult. Finally, he looked up, an owl scratched at his windowsill, a letter tucked between it's claws. He walked to the window, pulling it up. The owl hovered there, and he accepted the letter with a nod of his head, and giving the owl the five sickles as he was supposed too in the little bag. A grin darted across his face in eagerness. He shut the window however, and went back to the old desk that he worked upon, then spread open the Daily Prophet newspaper.

_DAILY PROPHET EXCLUSIVE!_

_ Letter from Boy-Who-Lived!_

_You-Know-Who Not Pureblood! (Tapestry Reveals All)_

_ Dark Mark a Death Sentence! (Magic used Ready to Kill Purebloods)_

_Potter Supports Aurors! Donation to the Auror Squad! _

It is not often, dear readers, that we receive an editorial letter, but we have, and I will post it.

Dear Wizarding World,

Many of you have watched, eagerly, from the sidelines as I was sent to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I greet you then, Most of you know me by the moniker that you have laid upon me, the Boy Who Lived. There was a time when I thought that the wizarding world was just backwards, when I realized that it was intent upon drinking the sand. My cousin Dudley gave me a book, it said that people don't drink sand because they enjoy it. But because they don't know any different. That if someone doesn't speak out, that they will continue to drink sand. Well, it has come and past, that I have been blamed for much, some say that I am mad, others say disturbed.

I say to you now, that I am angry, and yes, I am disturbed. Just not in the ways that they might wish.

You see, I did not know about magic until I was eleven, I was not raised in pure-blood society. I do not know Wizarding Ways. There is no class in Hogwarts to teach me these ways. It is, I guarantee you, not intuitive.

One of the first things I wish to clear up, is what happened the night that the First War Ended. You see, many have claimed that they know exactly what happened. But only four people where there that night. And one of them was He who shall not be named, and one was myself, another was James Potter, another was Lily Potter. There where no reporters, no authors. Just my family. Why did he go after the Potters? Well, I will tell you one of the best kept secrets of the Wizarding World. There was a prophecy between him and a child born in July. He decided it was me.

You see, what happened that night is simple. My parents had went into hiding, hearing from a friend that He Who Should Not Be Named was after them. They had the fidelus charm placed upon their home. There secret keeper was to be Sirius Orion Black, but he felt, as James best friend, that he was the obvious choice. He urged my mother, Lily Potter, and my father, James Potter, to turn to the least likely, least assumed person in their friends. Peter Pettigrew, Peter, however, unknown to them, was a servant of YKW.

He gave the Potters to his Master, like the traitor that he is. His master came to the house, walked up the drive, it was late, James yelled for Lily to Run, that it was him. My mother whirled with me in her arms, running up the stairs, the back door was blasted open, a flash of green light, and my father, James Potter, was dead. My mother tried to disapperate, she tried to use a portkey, she tried to break the window out. Nothing she tried worked. We where trapped. My mother, however, was a brilliant witch, brilliant at charms.

She only had moments, incanting a charm, tracing a rune upon my forehead. Then he was there, shouting for her to stand aside. That's right, my mother, Lily Potter, could have stood aside for me. But she refused. Finally the green curse lept from his mouth in that horrible tone, and she fell to the carpet. He moved towards me, where my mother had dropped me, by her side. One of my small hands reached out and grabbed hold of a handful of my mother's hair, he brought his wand towards my head, and bid me goodbye. Then the green curse flashed, and my mother's charm lit up the evening sky. His curse rebounded, his body fell to the ground next to my mothers. My mother's charm, not me, fell the Dark Lord.

They call me the Boy Who Lived, I wish that you, the people of the Wizarding World, would not. I wish instead, that you remembered the sacrifices that where made. Not just me, but others. For I was not alone. Remember instead of the Boy Who Lived, Those Who Were Lost.

My mother, My Father, My Grandfather, My Grandmother, My Godfather, who was killed by Bellatrix Lestrange. My Innocent Godfather, betrayed by Peter Pettigrew, a man who is a secret illegal animagus, who can turn into the form of a rat. Think instead of a fancy title towards what we have lost. Towards the boy in Hogwarts who lost his father, for the Head of the Auror Department who lost parents and husband, sister, and brother in law. Think of a housewife, who lost twin brothers, think of people who fought, and laid down their very lives, and got no recognition. Think of a housemate of mine, who's parents where tortured until they do not recognize him. Think of the poor muggles, thirteen, that I know of at least, that have been slaughtered, the twelve of Peter's and one poor old man who took care of You Know Who's parents land.

You want something to celebrate? Celebrate that. Think of all the families that where destroyed, all that was LOST. Because I'm not the Boy Who Lived. I'm merely a young man who lost his parents, his grandparents, his godfather, just like you.

As for my so called Fame, I don't want it. My mother, Lily Potter, was the one who should have been famous. She was the one who used the charm that protected me. That allowed me to live when others could not.

I call now, for you to realize the truth, yes, I am angry, so I suppose you could say that I am mad. Yes, I am disturbed, but better yet, why aren't you? You have been mislead into thinking it is safe, but you know that he is out there now, what has been done to make you safe? Beyond the fibs and lies and torture of students in Hogwarts. Your minister sent a woman to our school, the High Inquisitor, Senior Undersecretary of the Minister whom made all the students who disobeyed her write in their own blood with something called a blood quill.

Why aren't people being checked at the security desk entry to the ministry for the Dark Mark? Why are people like Lucius Malfoy able to walk free? Because nobody was willing to step forward and say that it's not okay. After all, if they are innocent, then they have nothing to fear from a bottle of Veritaserum. To this I'll say to them. I'll go three drops if they will.

The last thing I'd like to tell you is something that many will not believe, you see, You Know Who is a name made up in Fear, as is the other Moniker, He who Should Not be Named, or rather, Lord Voldemort. You see, this man, this Dark Lord, is not a Pure-blood. He is less even than a half-blood, like me. His Father, Tom Marvolo Riddle Sr, was a muggle. His mother was of the Gaunt family. Don't believe me? There's a simple anagram that proves me correct. "Tom Marvolo Riddle- I am Lord Voldemort.- Play with the Letters. That's right, the pureblood's that follow him are following someone who's not even pureblood. Great way to spread your agenda.

People can say it's not possible, but I bear the scars, so do other students. As a way to prove my words, I offer this, I paid the fee for Gringotts to send the Daily Prophet the heritage tapestry copy of Tom Junior.

I hope that you have learned something, and I hope that you will better yourselves with this knowledge. For those of you who are curious, the words scarred into my hand. "I shall not tell Lies."

- Harry James Potter


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Not mine! Please don't sue. I just like the purty characters.

Info: Yes, I took info from a few different books, plus this is AU (as you can tell this didn't happen in canon folks. Get used to it! If you want to read the Harry Potter series—your in the wrong place)

Chapter Six: Without a Sound

His lips twitched. Evidently, he'd committed a major crime, the scathing letter from Hermione hadn't been the slightest amused. Harry had written her back, asking if she was Really Mad at him for telling the truth. Ron had merely written one word. "Blimey." which made Harry laugh, Ron had Never been a good pen pal. He'd also received one from Headmaster Dumbledore, chiding him on going to the paper with the information. Evidently, he'd not just wiggled his hand in the pond, he'd made a few splashes. That made him actually grin.

However, today was the day, the day had finally come. The day he had waited on ever since he was told "You can't use magic at home until you reach your magical majority, at the age of 16." Well today was the day, and he stared at the clock.

His head tilted down, and the wry smile, the stack of books in the corner reflected in his eyes. He tapped his wand against the windowsill, eyes gleaming killing curse in the darkness. Under his breath, the tone, if one might hear it, was chilling. "Happy Birthday to me...Happy Birthday to me..Happy Birthday Dear Harry..." in nothing more than a whisper. The clock read 11:59. The seconds passed by, tension filled the room. Harry licked his lips, waiting, breathless. He had thankfully received several books from the shops of Diagon Alley, and at least, thought he was prepared for his magical inheritance. He closed his eyes eyes. Tilted his head back.

Even as several present laden owls made their way towards Surrey to deliver presents, in the smallest bedroom in privet drive, #4, to be exact.

A back arched, eyes slammed open as the head tilted back in a silent scream. Magic pulsed, like a heartbeat, twisting in his veins, he could feel it, flowering in his chest, expanding through his body. He fell backwards away from the curtain, not even knowing he'd fallen to the floor, silver danced around the room, darting around like a wild pixie. The magic that bound him whorled, tightened, struggled. Then overwhelmed, snapped.

Magic pulsed in the room, unseen save for the colors that raced through the room for one moment, the walls glowed faintly, outlining themselves in silver, blue, then green, then yellow, and finally, gold, gold that turned into a soft, burnished red. Then just as quickly as it came, it left, leaving him spent and sobbing on the floor of his bedroom.

He laid there for long moments as he gained enough sense to wriggle across the floor towards the small pile of things he had prepared with. The vial of painkiller was first, for even his hair ached. He pulled the cork out with his teeth, spat it to the side, and then downed the vial. The relief was instant, and the headache, as well as the itchy burning subsided for now. He wiped his face, and tossed the empty vial onto his mattress. He pushed his body up.

"Well Hedg, that felt remarkably like being hit in the balls." he glanced up, expecting to see only his owl at the window, to see a series of owls, nine sitting on his windowsill staring at him.

"And the peanut gallery arrives." Hedgwig flew down to him, nuzzling against his face. "Thanks girl, I'm alright..." he heaved himself upwards, groaning faintly as he rubbed his hand across his face. Then moved towards the first owl.

The first one of course, was Pig, and he was bouncing up and down on the windowsill. Harry took the present, laid it on the bed, then moved to the next. This one appeared to be from Hermione, and was vaguely book-shaped, he smiled a little, then another owl, Errol, with a blue wrapped present, and one in silver and yellow from Remus, and there was a green wrapped present from Neville, as well as it appeared, one from the Order. A red wrapped one from Dean, and a green one from Seamus, A little silver one from Ginny, and the last owl, a great brown thing with a decidedly imperious attitude, with a carefully wrapped parcel in black.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Friends, then Gringotts." he muttered. "Friends are more important than money, even if I'm dying of curiosity.." the owls had left, all save the Gringotts one. And he cocked an eyebrow at it as he moved to Ron's present, which he opened carefully, folding the paper and putting it to one side. A stack of chocolate frogs, and a pair of seeker gloves, he grinned and opened a frog, grabbing it before it got a chance to hop, and then bit the head off of it as he worked on the wrapping from Hermione's present. He chuckled under his breath when he saw the book, for it was so Hermione. "The Speed Reader's Guide to Studying." he shook his head.

He grinned a little, and moved to the next present, opening the one from the Weasley Family, he grinned, hugging the knitted blanket that Molly Weasley had given him, another wrapped parcel had several shrunken food items, and he wrapped the blanket around him, stiffening at the first wiff of magic, and then nuzzling into it when he realized it had temperature regulation charms. He would never freeze in that blanket. His eyes squinted shut for a moment, as he struggled to even out his breathing. Rubbing the precious gift against his cheek.

He moved to Remus's present, understandably a little uncertain, and opened it, a muggle style writing set, complete with lap desk, an ink tray, and two beautiful quills. His throat worked, and he looked at the paper, which had to have come from the Muggle world, but it was a beautiful gift, and he hugged it for a moment, so thoughtful, so Remus.

He moved to the green wrapped package, opening it, rather he hoped, it wasn't something from Herbology, he wasn't all about plants like Neville. He opened it, peering inside, and then looked at the small note. Inside was a beautiful dreamcatcher, and he swallowed hard.

"Harry,

I know you have a lot of nightmares, and so I went with Gran and got you this dreamcatcher, it's supposed to help filter out nightmares. You put it on the wall above your bed. It's ambient magic, so no secrecy issue. I hope it helps. I have one, and it helps me a lot.

Neville."

He smiled at the thoughtful gift, laying it carefully ever so carefully on the bed. Touched.

Then he reached for the gift from the Order of the Phoenix, opening it with gentle hands. He arched a brow as he read the note.

We can't have the person we're protecting sticking out Potter- MadEye

"I talked everyone into donating something towards this. The Old Bee won't let us get you out for two more weeks."

-Tonks

A shrunken stack of clothing, and he swallowed. A pair of trainers was visible, and he rubbed at his face.

"What did I do to deserve them.." swallowing hard, feeling a lump in the back of his throat, he rubbed at his face, and set the present to the side to organize and dig through in a few minutes. He was greatly curious about what all was in that rather interesting pile.

He opened the next present, which appeared to be from Dean, and smiled when he saw the poster, it was a muggle poster of a rather sexy female, and he blushed clear to the roots of his messy hair. The note inside the present made him laugh. "Figured you could use some cheering up- Dean"

He moved then to the last of his roommates presents, and opened the one from Seamus, he grinned as a non-noted bottle of fire whiskey was revealed. Sniggering faintly.

He reached for the last of the actual presents, and opened the small silver present, then grimaced. A necklace with a lightning bolt on it. He closed his eyes, and shook his head. "Thanks Ginny.." he tossed the box with the present up on the bed, and finally turned towards the Gringotts parcel.

Opening the twine, he set aside the case, a pendant on top of it, and a letter.

"To: Harry James Potter,

This is your Vault Manager Cracklefang. We've not yet met due to some interference. The case to the left is opened with your trust vault key only.

It has inside of it, the details of your inheritances, all five active wills, and two agreements. The pendent is the portkey too and from Gringotts Bank allowing you to travel with ease. Please do not use it until after you have looked entirely through the Vault Case. The case holds details about your investments, inheritances, as well as some other information for your perusal. Please look at it soon as there are some papers to sign. Once you have signed the papers they will summon the rings."

Vault Manager Cracklefang, Gringotts Bank

Harry stared for a few moments, then blew out a breath. He shook his head, and tapped his wand to his nose for a moment, then shook his head. "I need a minute to process that." the words firm.

He moved to the pile of clothing, tapping and enlarging stuff with his wand, a grin forming on his face as he dug through the clothing. He made a small pile of stuff, clean underwear, although his face burned a little at the idea of someone picking that out, socks, a pair of trainers, jeans, and a t-shirt. These got set on his chair, and then he dug open his trunk, which was empty, and started organizing. Putting the clothing on one side, then putting most of the books on the other side, the basket of food was tapped, and he quickly opened a container of pastries and took a bite. His Aunt was giving him more food, but he was hungry. She couldn't always give him food due to Vernon.

He opened a butter-beer, which had been in the basket, then tapped his wand against it, closing it to keep the charm heating the food back shut, and then put it in his trunk, munching away. He finished, and vanished the food with the spell, then picked up the clothing.

He moved to his door, starting to cast as he did. First one of the charms to clean his room up, another to scrub the floor, one more gave the room a great deal of size, an expansion charm with an anti-muggle part. A charm on his door encouraged his Uncle to ignore it. Outside the room, he tapped his fingers against his wand and then cast a charm towards his Aunt and Uncle's door, ensuring that they slept, and then towards Dudley's room, ensuring the same. Then he cast sound-proofing on their doors. He moved towards the shower after long minutes, intent on scrubbing himself clean and getting into the new clothing waiting on him before he dealt with what Gringotts had given him.

Thirty minutes later, he was out of the shower, and dressed. He moved back to his room, and shut the door, then started to cast he removed the door-locks, repainted it to a nice color, then moved inside of his enlarged room. His old clothing got tossed to the ground, and vanished. He tapped his wand, having prepared for this, he grinned. It was a flash of white teeth again tanned -garden working tanned, no less, skin. Soft silvery carpet crawled across the cold bare floor, a tap of his wand against the wall and the horrible floral wallpaper was replaced with a nice dark blue.

He waved his wand in the complicated pattern, and the appearance of the night sky opened above his bedroom. And then he was working, turning his room into what he really wanted. A book-shelf was transfigured out of several rocks that he had been thoughtful enough to preplan with, as well as a comfy couch, an in table, his blanket was tapped, vanished, and his new blanket was placed on the bed, his old sheets tapped, transfigured into comfortable soft sheets, his pillow was cleaned, whitened, and became rather fluffy. The squeaky spring was removed from the mattress, which gained several cushioning and comfort charms. The lamp was cleaned, color changed, and moved to it's new place. His wand flew across the room, making itself into the room that Harry wanted. His trunk was neatly organized, then slid into place.

The poster Dean had sent him went up on the wall. Finally content, he moved to the window, a tap of the wand and a quiet spell, and the window was clean, became silent to open and close, and gained a nice double pane as well as a screen with a proper latch set. A pair of silver curtains went over the window, keeping his casting carefully blocked from the Muggle world. Two hooks found their way transfigured from rocks, into the wall near his bed, and he hung his Firebolt and his cloak up overtop of his trunk. He nodded his head, and relaxed finally, the flurry of casting had wore him out a little, and finally he picked up his Vault Case, and moved it towards the refurbished desk, which was actually quite nice, once it had been hit five times by Reparo and cleaned well. He settled into the chair, which was now comfier than he'd ever remembered, and crossed his legs, sitting indian style in it. Something that had annoyed his Aunt to pieces the first time she'd seen him do it.

He opened the case.

Opening the files, he started to dig through, then placed them to the side, the wills gained their own special place, and then a ring box with a startling amount of rings upon it. A frown touched his face, for he'd only expected to get the Potter ring.

Shaking his head, he moved to a letter on top of all of it. And flipped it open..not knowing that he was throwing his own little world into Chaos.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Not mine! Don't sue, I'm a starving writer :)

Chapter Seven: Someone Save me if you Will

Harry opened his eyes, rubbed a hand across his face. He turned, stretching, his foot hit into the bottom of his wall, and he froze. His foot tapped against it. His bottom left eyelid twitched, and he cracked an eyelid. A glance around the room showed it was empty save for Hedg. She hooted softly at him, and he sat up, blinking a bit, his whole body ached like he'd been beaten, and he rubbed a hand across his face. His fingertips prickled, and he felt along his jaw, soft down hair was on his chin. He cocked an eyebrow. "Well Hedg, maybe my magical inheritance woke something else, eh girl?"

He stood up, or started too, but the ground was a long ways away, and his center of balance was screwed. He fell over, right onto his knees, cracking them hard on the soft carpeted floor. He blinked owlishly at himself. "Did I grow Hedg?" The soft Hoot hoot of his familiar had him using the bed frame to climb to his feet, cautiously. He looked around. "Whoa..." he blinked, then felt for his face, and he closed his eyes, inhaling hard. He knew that sometimes physical needs changed with Inheritance. He swallowed hard, for he no longer needed the glasses that laid on his desk. He shook his head a bit and moved towards the door, a sound check heard his Uncle Vernon slamming out of the house, and his Aunt calling to Dudley, saying that they where leaving.

He headed out to the bathroom, now that he knew it was safe, and paused, when his Aunt ran into him. She went stalk still. "Harry?" the words oddly questioning.

"Yes Aunt Petunia." Harry answered, knowing that to be impolite would guarantee no breakfast and he was hungry. He wanted to keep the food in his room for as long as possible.

"Your...well..your appearance has changed..I'll..." she expelled a breath. "I expected when your inheritance came in that it would happen." a faint smile touched her lips. "If you go get dressed and take a shower, I'll explain what little I know, which isn't much."

He hurried to the bathroom, and paused, staring at himself. Stared so hard and straight that his eyes water. Turquoise liquid pools of blue stared at him, the green eyes, that he had always heard were his mothers, now changed to a liquid blue that he'd heard his Aunt Petunia once describe to her bridge club as, "Bedroom eyes", while chortling. He swallowed hard, tilted his head to the side. His face was more angular, more grown up. But it was the color of his hair that made it so startling. That and he was all lanky length now, knobby knees and angles. His hair was also a bit longer, laying flat and nicely down. It was different colors at the roots, the ends where black as sin, the middle was a soft copper, and the roots..well it looked like he'd been dying his hair all of his life, faint white strands. "Bloody hell, how old did my inheritance make me?"

He inspected the white roots carefully. "I look beyond weird.." mumbled, his eyebrows seemed to be having the same issue, multicolored at the moment, and the fuzz on his face as well, hints of brassy red, and whitish blond. "Weirder than anything..."

He showered, and dressed, for once, his hair laid flat, and he smiled. Then paused, for a moment, he had looked like someone else, almost like his best friend Ron with all the red highlights. "maybe Molly mum and Dad had an affair." he grinned at the thought-because he knew it couldn't be so. "It would be brilliant if I ended up looking more like Mum." Yet still the soft liquid of his eyes bothered him and he hurried through the rest of his daily preparations.

He headed downstairs, his Cousin was eating a bowl of cereal in front of the TV in the living room, and his aunt was finishing plating up some eggs. He moved over, making sure to keep near something to grab an edge if he fell over, his balance was horrible. "Would you like a cup of coffee or a hot cup of tea Aunt Petunia.." she nodded her head. "The coffee is started if you want to have a cup with me." Toast popped and she put it and the bread on a plate, and put it in front of his, then moved to the fridge and got out milk and sugar, Harry fetched two cups, and poured the black coffee carefully inside, rather chuffed at the treat.

He remained silent however, for he knew his Aunt well, and if he prodded her, she'd say nothing.

"I've not told you anything about your mother, because it's always been my belief that you aren't." the words bald. "A member of this family that is." the words strained. "You see, Lily was my half sister, my father, Harris Evans, married your grandmother when I was two. Lily was...odd, very different, and very powerful. When we where younger, she was nice...or at least nicer. As she got older, she got...colder. Crueler. She let a bunch of young men torment me once..and.." she expelled a breath.

"She died, true, but I saw her a week before she died, she showed up with you, proud as punch. Except you didn't look..." she expelled a breath hard. "I'm messing this up. I know...I just don't know how to explain it. Your hair was red, as a baby, and your eyes green. Like your mother..a week later, you where delivered here, Lily and James dead, and your hair was black as night and your eyes green. You looked..and look very little like the first baby I saw." the words whispered. "Nobody knew that she brought you here..that time." her gaze caught Harry's.

"I don't think your my sister's son, that's not why.." she sighed again, a hand moving up to cover her face. "I was awake, you know, when they left you behind on the doorstep. Hovering inside the door. I'll never forget it. Your Headmaster Dumbledore cursed your Father, and cursed the Malfoy's under his breath, he placed the letter, and walked away."

Petunia looked down. "I only wanted what Lily had, but I was only a half sister, with different fathers." she shifted a little in the chair, and took a sip. "I had a blood test done..when you where a baby.." the words whispered. "Had it compared against my blood at the family doctor, your not..family..i remember Lily having the test done with me and mum when I was a child, she was my half sister.." her words almost tortured, sliding out of her lips. "I..." her hands wrung together.

"She may have died for you..but you weren't her baby..You weren't related to me at all.."

Then she was up, moving out of the kitchen, leaving him stunned sitting at the table. He sat there for perhaps thirty minutes, he'd long since heard the car start up and Petunia and Dudley leave the house. His eyes closed and his head leaned back. Expelled a breath, finished the rest of his cold coffee, tossed the eggs in the trash, and headed towards his bedroom.

He paused to stare at his reflection in one of the Dursley home photos.

"Who am I?" the words whispered to the empty house.

He shrugged, and then thinking over some things, he moved towards his bedroom door, settling at his desk that had the pile of battered bracelets that he'd bought at the thrift store. There where 40 bracelets, all in battered brass and coppers, rather nice looking actually, but all banged up and dusty, the man had taken a bit of change for the whole bag, and Harry had taken them happily. He swallowed, pushing aside the project with the bracelets, and finally he moved to the desk and grabbed a quill, and started to write.

"I can't ask Dumbledore, he'd just dance around it...and I can't ask my ...I can't ask Lily...and I can't ask Sirius..." his head tilted to the side. "Well, there's one Malfoy I know, and while he'll probably call me an idiot..."

He chuckled to himself.  
"How unlikely is it that I'd be writing Malfoy to ask why Albus Dumbledore was cursing the Malfoy's sixteen years ago.?"

He started to write slowly, carefully.

"_Draco Malfoy, _

_ I'm sorry to bother you during the summer months, but something curious happened at my residence involving the Malfoy family. My Aunt told me that sixteen years ago, that the Headmaster was delivering me to my Aunt's house, and cursed the Malfoy's. He didn't know she was listening. _

_ H.J. Potter."_

He gave it to Hedwig, who took it with almost a look of relief, and she was out the window. He moved back to his desk, to work on the bracelet idea..and then to work on the Vault Case some more.

Draco Malfoy was, as he did every year, in pain. He opened his eyes, and reached for the pain potion at the edge of his bed where it always was. Then looked around for whatever had woken him. Sulky stood at the end of his bed.

"Yes Elf?" the words pain drawn from bloodless lips.

"You has an owl Young Master." he sighed as he heard the squeaky tones of the frightened help.

"Thank you, please go ahead and open the window so it can get in.." he sat up, the silken bedsheets falling around his middle as the elf hurried to the window to let the owl in.

A white owl, he paused, staring at it. They where rare enough, but he knew that owl. That was Potter's owl, and he stared at it uncomprehendingly for several minutes. Then as she settled on his bed, blinked. "What the...Why in the name of Merlin is Potter Sending me a Letter?" the Owl hooted at him, and he could have sworn she laughed. Offering the letter with one leg.

He sighed, and took it, for a moment, his hand raised, and he started to throw it in the trash, then he opened it with a sigh. A frown touched his mouth and he slid out of bed. The house-elf was making it behind him as he moved to the nook table in his room where his breakfast waited upon him in gleaming silver and whiffs of glorious steam. "Sulky, please go see if Mother and Father are awake, and ask if I could see them, tell them I got a curious letter please."

Then he delved into breakfast, so that he could shower, then dress, then take that rather confusing letter to his parents. He didn't seem to realize that the owl had moved over to wait on the edge of his bedroom window as he went about his daily things.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Not her, not own nuthin, don't sue.

Note: A bit of a touching scene here, and the first stage. Preparations abound, and enter Dobby and Winky!

Chapter Eight: My blasphemy in my wasteland..

It was a labor of love, the work he was doing, he was bent over his desk, the container of potion and bracelets was soaking, already they had turned a soft, gorgeous brass color that made him smile. This was the second batch he was doing, a total of 80 bracelets. He tapped the notebook, and fingered the first bracelet. The idea was sound.

He tapped his wand against the first bracelet, and started to cast, first protection charms, putting in the reversal charm to many common hexes, then he charmed it unsummonable, unremoveable, unbreakable, to fit exactly, the be unable to be pulled upon, he poured magic into the first one, layering it with as many protections as he could. He continued working, the next went in was an anti-rust, anti-theft, anti-loss charm, then he started around the bubbles of the bracelet, for it was bubbled, tapping each one with his wand. "Fidelus" making the bracelet seen only by the secret keeper, himself. A rune for the fidelus rose above the bracelet, then he cast a charm to detect poisons, one to detect the dark mark, a bubble to offer correct temperature control, dissillusion charm, tracking, mapping spells...on and on the list went, as he bent over the master bracelet, his face intent. On and on his wand swished, the notebook holding the list of spells. He layered as many protections as he had been able to find, until he stopped finally, to stare at what he had made, he swallowed hard.

Then with a determined look on his face, he started on the next, pouring not just his determination and hard work, not the sweat of his brow, but also his love and caring of his fellows into the working. Sweat poured off his brow, as he worked to make what he had thought up, his invention, his magical item, his protection, he didn't even seem to notice as he cast as the first bracelet was finished, then the rest summoned, moving as a group as he started to repeat what was done once. The last batch of bracelets coming from the cleaner to be shot with reparo in the middle of the working, then kept separate, a litany of spells, that if one was watching, would have been able to tell him was the start of warding, for they rolled off his lips as he became familiar with what he was saying, a pulse of magic seemed to zap into the beads as he laid into them, giving his magic and work towards what he wished. The first batch finished, and moved over towards the side to lay in a flat shining line, and the second set was drawn forward, and the casting seemed if anything easier, the magic seemed to know what to expect now. He continued his work, burying himself in the magic with industry, he did not know, nor had he ever been told, that most casters would have tired after a few minutes, he continued for several long hours, not knowing that his magic replenished itself, only know that he could keep going, and so he did.

Finally the magic was done, and the pile of gleaming brass bracelets, with the colored runes laying upon each bead. They glimmered faintly with magic, and he smiled faintly, then turned, upon the wall was a large parchment wall hanging, a map of Britain that one of the shopkeepers had sent him. A wave of his wand and the bracelets followed him over to it, a tap of the wand and a tap to the map, as he intoned spells under his breath, each bracelet, once by one. Setting the tracking spell so that later, he would be able to see where all of the bracelets where at any time.

He felt sweat drying on the small of his back, the effort was beginning to strain him, several hours in, though he knew it not, that was a sign of his strength, for it was not in how much power one could hold for five seconds that was important, but how much sustained magic one could cast that most respected. For it was they that became the great creators of magic, work and hard effort being better than small showy bits of magic.

Little did Harry Potter know that he would start something that would someday become a legend. Someday be thought of as impossible, or amazing. He simply did it. He did not consider if he should or could, merely that he would take the step and would.

The bracelets firmly linked to the map, all of them showing at Privet Drive # 4, a tap of the map and a movement of fingers, and the map zoomed down, showing the house, he grinned, nodding to himself. Then zoomed the map out so he could see more. Snazzy bit of work that. A play of a grin touched his lips, proud of the first accomplishment. Next he went to the letter he had penned by hand, taking extra time and the study of the Calligraphy book to write it in high fashion. Then a copy charm times 80. These he organized into piles. Then the large pile of gravel he had collected outside, and transfiguration to make small precious containers. Inside went a bracelet on black velvet. The letters where sealed with the signet he had created, and the name he had given himself.

He did all of this with his wand, pausing occasionally to take a drink, but working none the less until he had. The master bracelet- the one that linked all the others, went around his own wrist, with a backup one to spare which he tucked away in the depths of his trunk.

A tap of his wand at his wrist and the name on the map changed to show the two identities he had made for himself Magic and Grey where the names. The plan laid out before him. He was Magic, the leader of the ...He paused. He hadn't named the group.

Finally his lips twitched. "Magic, Leader of the Guardians Medius, the neutral faction. Not Darke, Nor Light." he sagged in place for several long minutes, gleaming with accomplishment. His lips twitched, then a problem came to him. How in the world was he supposed to deliver these bracelets?

"Magic is the Leader, but Grey is the Commander, until I find a real one." still that left him with the aching need to deliver these protections.

He slumped again, confused and unable to think of a way to fix it, there was no way for Hedgwig to deliver so many items and he wouldn't wear her out so. He needed someone suited to the task. He needed someone he could turn too, that would help him..

Twin small pops arrived in the room, and he reared back in surprise, his wand flashing out, but not casting until he could see who or what was there. Standing in his room, looking rather abashed at the wand pointed at him, was Dobby the House Elf, and Winky the House Elf.

"I be sorry, Dobby is.." the distraught first elf called out immediately, yanking on his ears.

Winky stood there, her hands wringing in the pillowcase that she wore as Harry stared stunned at her and Dobby.

"I be sorry as well young wizard Potter, Winky is sorry, she did not mean to surprise young wizard Potter. She is only feeling his need, and felt the urge to come for many hours she has."

Harry stared at the two, blinking, the plan formed in his head, but he paused, then asked a question that had been whirling in his brain. "Winky, Dobby, it's okay..I just..want to ask you a question. Why are house elves bound to Wizards? You guys are amazing...why do you serve Wizards?"

Dobby quit tugging at his ears, and danced in place a little until Winky swatted at him. It was Winky however, that answered him, tears spiked her eyelashes, and he noticed that she looked run down and tired, and older, if it was possible.

"House Elveses need the bond with a master, young wizard Potter, without the bond of magic we die. When we rest we feed off of a tiny portion of magic from our master so that we can serve them young wizard Potter.." she seemed hesitant. "You is..." the words soft. "You is not wanting to bond with us are you, you is too good and..and noble to do so..too young..and not..not knowing House Elveses ways..." her shame at her dismissal showing clear through in her words and behavior, for her head lowered. "Winky is shamed house elf she is, she will die in two years."

Dobby turned towards Winky, his voice lowering to a hiss. "No Winky, you not be telling Good Harry Potter! Good Harry Potter freed Dobby, he must not think that he has harmed Dobby!" His face showing his urgency as he tried to silence the other house elf.

Harry paused processing that, before he held up a hand.

"It's okay Dobby, I asked. I'm sorry that I don't know your ways Dobby, Winky. Can you tell me more about the bond between a house-elf and their masters?" the words slid out before he seemed to realize what he was asking.

This time though, it was Dobby who answered. "Yes, Good Harry Potter, Great Wizard such as you should know. House Elfs Serve the Master and the Family of the Masters that owns them. They keep them fed, and clean, and do repairs, they do. They fetch things, and deliver things, and do chores." Harry blinked for long moments, then looked towards Winky as she started to speak.

"House Elves be doing more than that..at least the girlses Elfses are. We ares raising babies when Witches not want to watch them, and comforting them, and making them food, and hugging them when they need them, and they can tell us secrets, and we tells nobody, and we are always there if they needs them. A house elveses Job is to make Master comfortable, and to see to health and wellbeing sir, a female elfses will make blankets, and clothing, and take care of the homes and takes care of the Masters." the words soft, fingers gnarled into the pillowcase.

Harry considered for long moments. "I..." he looked at Dobby and Winky. "I don't know if either of you are looking for a Master, or what it entails to become a master of two house elves."

Dobby answered. "But..Harry Potter is too great..for the likes of Dobby...and..." he seemed almost in shock. Winky interrupted with a soft scolding sound. "Dobby not be telling Great Wizard Harry Potter what he should do. Dobby be helping, not bossing." waggling a finger in front of the stunned house elf's face. "You is tapping us with a wand sir, and saying that we are yours, and we say that we yours, and then we touches your hand, and then we are yours house elves..." she looked down, fidgeted, then looked up at him. "Is...is you wanting us to find you two good house-elves sir? Winky..winky knows of a pair of young house-elves, not Winky and Dobby, from good breeding and loyal. They are not shamed or been dismissed or...or Given Clothes.." he could tell, just looking at her, that it hurt her to offer the other two elves.

Instead he did what his heart urged him to do. He took his wand, and he tapped Dobby on the forehead. "I, Harry James Potter, claim you, Dobby the House Elf, as my elf." Dobby stared up at Harry, and then started to cry, but in happiness not sorrow. "Dobb...dobby the House..House Elf...accepts Harry James Potter as his Master, and his friend..and will help him...always..." then the little elf was careening into his knee to cling. And a soft shimmer surrounded Dobby as he clung to Harry.

He turned to Winky, who looked ready to call for another female elf, her fingers had actually risen to her lips to call for them. "Winky will call for young Pretty female elf for Harry Potter..." but the words got cut off by Harry's voice. "I, Harry James Potter, ClaimYou, Winky the House Elf, as my Elf." Winky's head whiplashed towards him, the fingers stuck in her mouth, and then she was sobbing, unable to even speak to complete the bond, she threw herself at him, and he wrapped his arms around her.

She cried tears, sobbed out broken words that she was shamed, she was not good enough, that she was not worthy, that she was worthless and naughty and bad. Harry instead, held her to him, his offer waiting as he hugged the two small elves with a maturity, that others would later say, would show beyond his years.

Then finally the tears slowed, and the sobs stopped, and Harry set her apart from him a little, gentle fingers tried to raise the little Elven face. "I meant what I offered Winky, I don't think your bad, or naughty, or worthless, and I could use a lot of hugs, and caring for, and cleaned after, and I could really use your help in particular Winky." he tapped his chest. "I feel it here, the need to have you bond with me. Will you deny me the house elf I need and want?"

Winky at first, when Harry moved to separate her away from him, broken, like a discarded child's toy. Until gentle fingers raised her face up. Tears leaked down the bulbous eyes, across cheeks that might have been cute once upon a time. Tears continued to leak. "You..you need Winky?" the words broken still. But a glimmer of hope started to lurk in her eyes.

Harry nodded his head at her. "I do need you Winky, you and Dobby both."

Her small face scrunched up as she worried it over in her mind. But his words, his need, rang through her, and he chose her, her, shamed and dismissed from Service house elf Winky. "I..." the words stuttered out of her mouth, unsure. "Wink..Winky..." the poor elf was trembling so much that she looked fit to shake apart. "Winky accepts...Harry James...Potter..*sob* As her Master...and her Friend...and will help him al..alw..always..." the zing of magic around the room was strong, and he let her throw herself at him, as the tiny little female elf started finally, to heal from the damage that Barty Crouch Sr. had done to the little Elf's mentality. Instead she shook against her master, bawled out her shame and relief as the bond settled around them, time later, would say that the high emotions of the bonding, of the need of the bonding, would make it one of the strongest ever.

"Dobby, I have some things for you two to deliver..when Winky calms down..I need to rest..I've worn myself out. There are names of the person the letter and box should be delivered too. If you can't deliver to someone please let me know." his eyes drooping, exhausted suddenly, he started to slump forward as his magical reserves, now being lightly drawn upon by the two worn elves, finally gave in. Winky however, was there, small finger shook at him, as she levitated him towards his bed. "You Rest, Master Harry, Winky will take care of you. Winky and Dobby will take care of everything. Good...Great Master needs Rest. He..He needs Dobby and Winky..and Dobby and Winky Needs Great Master to be well."


End file.
